


I am gonna make it through this year (if it kills me)

by LeotheLionathefootofOrion



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Caring Hisoka, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sad and Neurodiverse Illumi rights, staying the night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeotheLionathefootofOrion/pseuds/LeotheLionathefootofOrion
Summary: Illumi runs away for a brief moment, and wishes it could last longer. But no matter how happy Hisoka is to hold him, there is no escape from the inevitable.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 57
Kudos: 408





	I am gonna make it through this year (if it kills me)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists because I am sad and John Darnielle inspired me to project my sadness

“You ran away?” Hisoka sounds astounded, delighted - euphoric. There’s laughter in the timbre of his voice. Something horrible and small in Illumi surges up in response to the pride in Hisoka’s smile. He can only shake his head for a moment and then say -

“Not ran, drove. I took a car. It’s in your allotted garage space.” Hisoka doesn’t own a car, doesn’t even know how to drive as far as Illumi knows. His smile widens, though, as he listens.

“So you stole one of your father’s cars, and you drove away, without stopping?” Hisoka whistles lowly. “That’s even better.”

Illumi doesn’t tell him that really the car was his to use, that it belonged to the estate as a whole and that his father never drove, or even noticed any of their many vehicles. He doesn’t mention the way he crunched into the garage still in second gear, unable to see the markings on the tarmac because he was crying silently and had been for hours and hours. Because Hisoka is impressed, and proud of him, and smiling. Illumi is very good at destroying things but he determines not to destroy this.

Hisoka hops up and across the apartment. It’s a lovely wide space, no Zoldyck mansion but still something. The walls are magnolia and there’s a cafetière on the breakfast bar. One of Illumi’s books is still on the coffee table, left over from his previous visits. He thinks he might cry again, but then Hisoka is in his lap. Long limbs and a very familiar weight settle Illumi. The well known scent of Hisoka from his shower gel to his gum-sweet breath wash across him.

“Why did you run, baby-doll?” He murmurs, pressing long fingers beneath Illumi’s brows, into the corner of his eyes. The pressure soothes like nothing else can. Hisoka is clever with his fingers, he knows a million spots on Illumi’s body to rid him of a headache or a chill. 

“I’m tired.” Illumi blurts, while Hisoka finds his temples and begins to draw insistent circles there. “I’m so tired of being invisible.”

Milluki makes himself invisible, with his computer screen to hides behind. He likes it. And Killua shouts, cries, swears himself into visibility. Nobody ignores him: not the silver little heir. Alluka has always been the unknown quantity, staunch in her existence no matter how they tried to hide her. And Kalluto... slips into the shadows with a grace that Illumi has never garnered: because Illumi’s invisibility is clumsy and distasteful.

Reliable Illumi. Perfect to a fault. Always there - always where they want him! 

There is, Illumi reflects, a glass ceiling above him at all times. He’s been bobbing against it all his life while his siblings had smashed or wiggled through. Tonight his own ceiling had cracked all over him and left him bleeding.

“I see.” Hisoka says, meaning more than he says as always. 

“Mother didn’t like the way I executed my last job. She said I am getting sloppy and picking up bad habits. Father knew it wasn’t true. He saw the report the client delivered, praising my work for its cleanliness. He said nothing. He said less than nothing: I don’t believe he knew that I was there. He doesn’t listen to mother, she would be invisible too, but she screams. Like Kil. Like them all.”

Illumi suspects that he isn’t making much sense. But Hisoka never minds how confused his thoughts become. He listens. Illumi has to suck in the urge to weep yet again: Hisoka has set out his favourite jasmine tea (and the little porcelain cup they bought from the flea market), in anticipation of his return.

“Mother reached out to hit me. I felt it coming. I took her wrist and I squeezed until something cracked. Father noticed, then. He was shocked. I ran before he stopped being shocked.” Illumi shuts his jaw with a click, tense despite Hisoka’s ministering fingers.

“Serves the bitch right.” Hisoka sing-songs. Illumi likes it when Hisoka swears, even a little bit, but the urge to defend his mother almost eats him up. He keeps his jaw clamped like a man-trap. Hisoka continues, grimly. “It would serve them all right if you walked up the mountain and killed them one by one. I’m sure I would. But then... you’re too kind, Illu. Too kind for your own good.”

It’s not a word anyone has ever used about Illumi before, because he isn’t kind. Not at all. What he is is brainwashed and a loyal dog waiting to be kicked again and again. Kind sounds better than that.

“I’m proud of you.” Hisoka says. He presses his fingers at the base of Illumi’s skull and some tension bleeds out. “So proud, my sweet boy, my kind darling. My baby-doll. You’re not invisible, never with me. You never will be. I see you so clearly and I love everything I see. I’d burn the world for you. That’s how visceral you are, my love. You are so much.”

Illumi’s eyes dredge up tears without permission, soft and slow over his cheeks without making a sound or darkening his complexion. How long has he known to cry silently for his own good? So many ways of protecting himself and yet here he is, crying in the arms of the psychopath who loves him (because who else could ever love someone- something- like Illumi?). None of those flimsy protections had made a difference. Like tissue paper for body armour.

Hisoka kisses his tears and mouths at the salty smudges they make on his cheeks. He is a dying star with his explosion of life, his words always so certain. Illumi has never known what to say, the words don’t come like they should. He’s learnt the ways of hurting with a few choice words but beyond that? He never knows what to say. He repeats himself in slow, comforting sentences. He responds in affirmatives and negatives. When he was a child he would suck his thumb to make himself quiet until his mother ripped out his finger nails in punishment.

Hisoka doesn’t question how slow he is, never shouts at his repetitive circular attempts at conversation. Hisoka never punishes Illumi for his clumsiness.

“I will have to go back.” Illumi plucks up the words one by one. “I’m not Kil. I don’t... get to come and go as I please. I don’t get to throw tantrums. They will come looking, and it will be even worse.”

Hisoka doesn’t punish him for these words, which must displease him so greatly. His fingers never leave Illumi’s skin. Even his mouth comes closer, sharp nose pressed into his cheek.

“Let me come with you. I won’t let them hurt you.” He is asking, begging even. Not instructing or ordering. Hisoka likes to give Illumi choices: eat out or stay in? Cashmere or cotton? Rough or gentle? The question marks are like a foreign language but they chime so sweetly in his ears.

Illumi tries to imagine bringing Hisoka home to the Zoldyck mansion but his brain comes up short. Hisoka doesn’t fit into that world in the slightest. What would his parents say? Hisoka would probably want to fight them, maybe even kill them. However savoury the thought of being rescued is, Illumi knows that he doesn’t deserve a knight in shining armour. He shakes his head faintly.

“They already have. Hurt me. I don’t matter, not really. It’s fine.”

Hisoka is shaking his head too, little baby tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “The worst part of it is that you really believe that, my sweetheart.” He looks so sad, Illumi almost changes his mind. He’d do almost anything for Hisoka - but he would do anything for his family. Anything.

“I’d kill you if they asked me to.” He says flatly. To him it’s a sudden realisation but Hisoka doesn’t seem surprised.

“Some days I think I might let you.” Is all he says. His yellow eyes are dull with a sadness that even Illumi doesn’t think he can comprehend.

“Let’s go to bed.” Illumi says. He’s heavy with weariness and he wants nothing more than to be the warmth that Hisoka craves. The warm body he can rock into and whisper sweet nothings to. Illumi thinks about how nice it would be to stay here forever. And he remembers that he doesn’t get to keep nice things no matter how hard he tries.

Hisoka pulls him to his feet and leads him off to their - his? Bedroom. Strips him out of his clothes like a child and tucks him under soft covers. He wipes Illumi’s face with a warm damp cloth even as he lies there with sleepy black eyes. Then he climbs into bed too.

“I’ll make you breakfast, in the morning. Before you go.” Hisoka murmurs, kissing the back of his neck and pulling him in close. It’s his way of asking Illumi not to leave without saying goodbye.

“Thank you.” Illumi buries half his face in his pillow, which smells exactly like Hisoka. He is with Hisoka. 

Not forever, but for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments HIGHLY APPRECIATED.


End file.
